Hawkgirl in Wonderland
by Missie2
Summary: Supervillains are one thing, but what can a Hawkgirl do when trapped in an alternate universe full of women who'd rather kiss her than kill her? Non-graphic,non-serious,fun with lesbians getting on a straight girl's nerves.
1. Default Chapter

Hawkgirl in Wonderland.

Before I start this fic, I want to make one thing absolutely clear; I am perfectly straight. Straight as an arrow. Always have been, always will be. I am, however, open minded and a big fan of CLAMP's work. This is based on the comic Miyuki Chan in Wonderland, which is the story of a schoolgirl being hit on in an imaginary world by dozens of beautiful women. The art is great, the outfits fantastic, but its Miyuki's reaction to these women's interest in her that makes the comic worth reading. I wanted to get it into a fanfiction, so who better to have assaulted by amorous lesbians than Hawkgirl?

I don't own Justice League. And as far as I'm concerned, the episodes of _Starcrossed_ don't exist. La la la la, I'm not listening, la la la…

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"This is really weird…"

Hawkgirl stood alone, clutching her mace in the middle of a long corridor with a marble floor. It didn't make sense. Just a moment before, she had been beating in the heads of some annoyingly shiny robots, and then there was a bright light, and now she was…somewhere else. She had a bad feeling about this place; a sort of crawling revulsion that made her want to wrap her arms around herself and run away. To add to this obnoxious feeling, her helmet was getting on her nerves. She pulled it off and took a good look around, but saw nothing. With a long suffering sigh, she began walking.

She walked for a solid hour, until she was just about ready to bash in one of the walls. Her mace glittered in anticipation, but then she caught sight of a person just up ahead. She cheered up, because if this person couldn't tell her where she was, she could at least beat him/her up.

It was a her. And apparently, she was a nurse. She had a little lectern, and she was arranging notes on it. Her pale blonde hair was tied into two fat braids and secured under her nurse's cap so that they peeked out to tap on her shoulders as she bustled about. She was tall, almost as tall as Wonder Woman, and rather thin, but her face was cute. She hummed a little tune merrily as she worked, stopping only to pull down the hem of her short white skirt. Hawkgirl was relieved to see such a benign character. She called out to the nurse.

"Excuse me?"

The nurse looked up and flashed her a brilliant smile.

"Hello, dear!" the nurse chirruped. Hawkgirl smiled back, a little gingerly.

"Could you tell me where I am, please?" she asked. The nurse's smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of intense concentration. She stepped out from behind the lectern, raised her pointed finger and spun around in a circle while Hawkgirl watched, growing more and more bewildered with each moment that passed. Finally, the nurse stopped spinning and gave a light cheer.

"Yay! I know where we are!"

"So, where are we?" Hawkgirl asked, wanting to get the hell out of there.

"We're_ here!" _the nurse squealed, clapping her hands together as though celebrating the solving of some unfathomable equation. Hawkgirl groaned mentally. The woman was obviously quite mad.

"And where's here?" she asked, her short capacity for patience making it difficult to keep herself from strangling the woman. The nurse's expression shifted into concentration mode, but after a few minutes she seemed to drift off. Her mouth twisted into a little smile and she leaned closer to the baffled superhero. Hawkgirl backed away.

"What? What is it?"

The nurse's smile grew wider. "You're a very pretty girl."

"Um, thanks, but that's not really…"

"You've got such pretty eyes…"

"… yeah, thanks, but…"

"…and lovely skin…"

"…okay, you too, but I…"

"… and a cute nose…"

"…listen, I really need…"

"…and your mouth is to die for!"

With that, the nurse leaped over the lectern, crashed into the shocked superhero and knocked them both to the ground. Hawkgirl was too shocked to do anything, when if some super villain had accosted her that way she would have beaten them to a pulp in seconds. But this enemy wasn't hell bent on killing her, this enemy wanted to kiss her! And the nurse succeeded, taking advantage of Shayera's stupor to cover her face and neck with tiny kisses, punctuated by shrill giggles.

Finally, Hawkgirl regained her senses and pushed the nurse off of her.

"What the hell are you doing?" she screamed, in a way most unlike her.

"I'm sorry," said the nurse breathlessly, "I just couldn't resist. You're so pretty! I should get Margery. _Margery!"_

"Good. Maybe this Margery person can tell me where I am," Hawkgirl muttered under her breath, while wiping her face with her arm.

"Hello?" A voice, huskier than that of the nurse's but just as chirpy, sounded from behind Shayera and scared the bejesus out of her. She spun around, her hand automatically going to her mace, to be confronted by an air hostess.

That's right. An air hostess.

She was about the same height as the nurse, but her polar opposite physically. Her features were sharper. Her nose was long, her lips thin, her hair short and dark, and her body voluptuous. She had a dark blue hat similar to the white one that the nurse wore, and her uniform consisted of a smart blue suit jacket and a pencil-style mini skirt with a slit up the left leg. The effect was finished by a pair of plain high-heeled blue pumps.

"Margie!" squealed the nurse. She leaped into the air hostess's arms and the two shared a peck on the lips, which soon degenerated into a full-blown snog. Hawkgirl watched, feeling vaguely uncomfortable.

"Excuse me?" she called after ten minutes of making out.

"Hello?" she called again after fifteen.

"Hey!" she screamed after twenty minutes of being ignored. The two women finally stopped kissing. The air hostess set the nurse down and smiled at Shayera.

"Hello! What can I do for you, dear?" she chirruped. Shayera sighed. She was getting sick of the cheerful nature of these women.

"I don't know where I am. Could you tell me, please?"

The air hostess looked serious, even grim. She put her hand on Shayera's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.

"You don't know where you are? Dear me, that is troubling. But I can help you."

Shayera let out a relieved sigh.

"You're _here_, of course!" the air hostess chirped with a wide smile. Shayera's mace-wielding arm almost belted her one of its own accord.

"Margie, don't you think she's pretty?" the nurse twittered. The air hostess leaned in closer.

"Yes, she is!" the women squealed like a schoolgirl, "Oh, my goodness! She's positively adorable!"

Hawkgirl took two steps back and fingered her mace nervously.

"I kissed her!" the nurse said smugly.

"Lucky creature!" the air hostess giggled. "Let's see if I can go one better!"

With that, the woman jumped on top of Shayera, who collapsed under her weight. Much to her chagrin, she found that common decency wouldn't let her whack someone for trying to give her a hickey. Her chagrin changed to horror when she felt a hand slip under her bustier.

"Gah! Get off me!" she yelled angrily, just about managing to push the woman off of her. She grabbed her mace, straightened her clothes, and then ran away as fast as she could. As she disappeared into the dark corridor, she heard the air hostess bragging to the nurse.

"Ha ha! I got to touch her boobs!"


	2. Chapter 2

**_Hawkgirl in Wonderland_**

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Here's part 2. Haven't gotten many reviews, how am I supposed to know if anyone likes this fic? Oh hell, I didn't write it for the reviews.

Smutty language warnings from here on in. And I know nothing about poker.

It took Hawkgirl a good twenty minutes to calm down after the altercation with the two servicewomen. Now, it wasn't as if she was homophobic or anything. She just wasn't used to being hit on in such a forceful manner (after a five-year stretch in the Thanagarian military, there were a lot of things she wasn't used to.) With a sinking feeling, she realised she had left her helmet back there. She had dropped it when the nurse leapt on top of her.

"Screw that," she thought venomously, "I'm not going back there!"

She fairly trotted along the dark corridor, trying not to panic as she realised that the lights illuminating her way only turned on as she approached them, then switched off again. It was like she was in some strange Gothic novel, starring as the naïve young virgin about to be ravaged by seductively dangerous creatures from the Netherworld.

"Naïve young virgin?" her inner voice laughed, "Yeah right! If anything, those creatures from the Netherworld should be scared of you!"

The corridor finally petered out into a room, lit up by a magnificent crystal chandelier and covered wall to wall in mirrors. Right in the middle of the room was a carved mahogany table with four cloth covered chairs, and sitting in those chairs were three very attractive young women. One was a twenty-something girl with bright pink hair tied up into two little pigtails, dressed in a green midriff-baring tank top and a pair of orange bell-bottoms. The one on the right looked like a businesswoman, dressed in a power suit with a white blouse, navy blazer and miniskirt and high-heeled blue pumps. Her dark brown hair was tied up into a severe chignon and a briefcase lay under her feet. The third woman appeared to be an Irish housewife. She wore a cream-coloured blouse and a wide-hemmed burgundy skirt, with a black lace shawl thrown over her shoulders. Her hair colour was close to Shayera's, maybe a shade darker, and cascaded in loose curls down her back. The women were playing cards.

"Hello, dear!" the housewife called as Hawkgirl walked by the table. She waved back, but proceeded quickly to the gigantic double doors at the back of the room. She grabbed one of the huge brass rings on the door and pulled hard. And again. And once more. Then she gave it a vicious, frustrated kick.

"You need a key, dear!" the housewife piped up again.

Shayera closed her eyes, counted to ten, opened her eyes, and turned to address the woman.

"Do you have a key?" she asked, trying hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"I'm afraid not. Tina went to get the key a few hours ago. We're expecting her back soon!"

With a sigh, she sank to the floor to begin the long wait.

"Why don't you join our card game, dear?" asked the businesswoman.

Now, you may think joining in a group of strange women's card game half an hour after being accosted by two strange women is a rather foolish thing to do, and you'd be right. Unfortunately for her, Shayera was an impatient woman who would choose cutting off her own leg over being bored for any amount of time. She joined the card game against her better judgement.

The clubber girl dealt the cards. Shayera's were pretty bad, so she decided not to risk betting. The businesswoman folded too, so it came down to the clubber girl and the housewife.

"Four queens!" the housewife said primly.

"Four aces!" the clubber shouted, victorious.

"Oh no!" the housewife cried, horrified. Then she angrily removed her black lace shawl and placed it on the table. Shayera didn't find anything strange about this. On the next round, the businesswoman lost her pumps and the clubber lost her sandals. On the third round, the housewife lost her flat-heeled shoes. It wasn't until the fourth round that Shayera stopped playing safe and made a bad bet.

"Put your boots on the table, dear," said the businesswoman.

That little sentence was enough to make Shayera want to protest, but she repressed her urge to gripe. After all, there couldn't be anything suspicious about a game of poker, right? None of them appeared to have any money, and that shawl had looked valuable. How many times had John teased her about her paranoia? She sighed, unzipped her boots and laid them on the table with the other garments.

Two rounds later, the businesswoman made a bad bet, and the game took a turn for the sinister.

"Oh no!" she cried, sending imploring looks towards the round's winner, the clubber girl.

"Wow, those are really bad cards. You know what to do!" She dropped her own winning hand and leaned across the table with a wicked smirk stretched across her face. And the businesswoman began to unbutton her blazer, and when she had laid it on the table she unbuttoned her blouse, blushing madly as she did so. Shayera finally voiced her unease.

"What the hell…? Why is she taking her clothes off?" she nearly screamed.

"Oh, didn't you realise? We're playing strip poker!" said the housewife in a perky tone that was utterly sickening.

"I never agreed to play strip poker!" Shayera's voice was becoming less commanding and more whiny.

"What's the matter, dear?" said the businesswoman, who appeared to have forgotten her own distress from a few moments before. She was now clad only in her skirt and a black lace bra that tied at the back with a halterneck. "I do hope you're not ashamed of your body. From what I can see, you have a lovely figure."

"That's not the bloody point! I didn't know that's what you lot were getting up to! I quit!"

"But you can't quit, dear," piped up the clubber.

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"The door won't open until we've completed our game."

"What?"

"One of the rules of this dimension is that all tasks undertaken must be completed or the doors lock. That's how we got stuck here in the first place," the clubber explained. "Tina was knitting while she walked, but she dropped her stitches and now she's gone to find the key."

"But… that makes no sense!" Shayera wailed.

"Those are the rules, dear. If you want to leave when Tina returns, we'll have to finish our game."

It was clear to Shayera, at this stage, that in order to keep her dignity intact that she would have to play by the dimension's rules. The betting went on, and for the most part she played it safe. But as poker goes, you can't go the whole game without losing something. The clubber's sandals were on the table, and the Shayera made a bad bet.

"Top off now, dear! You were doing so well," sympathised the housewife. Earlier on, she too had lost her shirt to the betting table. Her bra didn't seem to fit her well-endowed bust very well, and she looked ready to pop out of the thing at any moment.

"No way!" cried Shayera filled to the brim with righteous indignation. "You've already got my boots; I'm not taking my top off!"

"Those are the breaks, baby!" hooted the clubber girl. "You won't get anywhere by being shy now!"

Of course! The bloody door wouldn't open if they didn't finish the game. Gritting her teeth, Shayera reached around to her back and started unhooking her bustier. The other three women stared, smiling serenely. On the third hook, her fingers slipped and she cursed lightly under her breath, feeling the blush burn on her cheeks. She was furious at herself for blushing in the first place. Her commanding officer had informed her sternly at the age of twelve that blushing was a sign of weakness. At last, she got the blasted bustier off and dropped it on the table. The women cooed and clapped.

"You have lovely breasts, dear!" trilled the housewife.

"I'll have to try harder in the next round, I want to get your pants on the table too!" laughed the businesswoman.

"I wish I had such nice breasts. Mine are far too big," moaned the housewife.

"Nonsense! The bigger the better! Look at me, mine are like fried eggs!" said the clubber girl, pointing to her small bust.

"Yours are perfect, dear. Not too big or too small," said the businesswoman as she reached out and patted Shayera's left bosom. Shayera swatted her hand away and covered her chest with her arms.

"Stop it!" she snapped, "Why don't you stick to admiring each other?"

"Well, there would be no point, dear. I've seen those two naked," said the businesswoman, fluffing up her hair. "We haven't had a new playmate for some time. It's a novelty!"

The game went on for another hour. The businesswoman lost her skirt, revealing black lace panties and a suspender belt, and later on her bra too. The housewife lost her skirt ten minutes later, and she was wearing bloomers underneath. The clubber girl lost her top, and she hadn't been wearing a bra underneath. Shayera felt better about losing her own top with the others being in a similar manner of undress. That was, until she lost another hand and had to put her pants on the table. To add to the humiliation, she happened to be wearing bright red French knickers.

"What lovely underwear, dear!" cooed the housewife, whose left breast had managed to escape from its cup.

"Shut up," Shayera muttered. The last time she'd played strip poker was during her second year in the army, she'd been wearing her current boyfriend's boxer shorts, and he'd gotten her good and drunk first. This was way too different.

"You guys have to start wearing more layers," giggled the clubber girl, ignoring her topless state.

The game went on and on, until the businesswoman and the housewife lost their bras. And of course, the ball had to drop at some point. Shayera was dealt another bad hand.

"Hooray!" the housewife cried, her large breasts bouncing as she clapped. "Take off your bra, dear!"

"No. No, no, no, no, no! I quit! Screw the lot of you!" Shayera screamed.

"Dear, you can't quit. Remember the door?"

All of Shayera's anger dissipated and was replaced by embarrassment. She reached around to unhook her bra. The women leaned forward to watch with large eyes.

"Yoo-hoo!"

Just then, a young woman came running down the corridor, waving a large key. She was dressed in a schoolgirl's uniform, a tartan skirt and blazer over a white shirt. Shayera stopped fiddling with her bra, leaped forward and grabbed the key, just in case any of them came up with a reason to stop her from leaving.

"Who's this?" the newcomer trilled.

"Oh, she just turned up a few hours ago, Tina. She needs to get through the door."

"I'll be taking my clothes and going now," Shayera said, relieved to finally be going.

"Sorry, dear. They're mine now!" warbled the clubber. "Unless, you want to win them back…"

"Oh, keep them!" Shayera opened the door and tore off, not looking back until she was miles away.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hawkgirl in Wonderland_

_Part Three_

It's taking me a while to get these Chapters out, but I promise to be as quick as I can. I may add a Mary-Sue later, but I promise it will be as demented as the rest of the fic up until now. I own nothing.

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After a few minutes of blind flying around the corridor, Shayera decided to walk instead. With all the weirdness going on in this place, it would have been wise to conserve energy.

Now, she was in a danger zone. All the army training in the world couldn't prepare her for a showdown with over affectionate women whilst scantily clad. Oh well, at least she still had her…

Oh Christ.

Her mace was gone.

"What the…" she exclaimed, horrified. It was like losing a limb. And the weirdest thing was that she remembered having it while leaving the strip poker room.

"Okay, don't panic," she told herself sternly, "If you did have it, it'll turn up. Concentrate on getting some clothes, okay?"

That was the most important thing, after all. She felt ridiculously vulnerable dressed only in a strapless bra and French knickers. She walked on through the corridor, all the while trying desperately to cover herself up with what little clothing she had left. At last, a building loomed into view. Shayera approached it with caution. A building could hold many lesbians.

Thankfully, there appeared to be only one woman. Her dark blonde hair was tied up into two little buns and she wore a long red Chinese style dress. She was clearing tables on the outside of the building, so perhaps it was a restaurant. Shayera was relieved; how much trouble could one woman be?

"Excuse me?" the superhero called as she approached the woman.

"Hello, dear!" the woman called back, suddenly standing up. It was only when she was standing up straight that Shayera noticed the woman's enormous…chest.

"Uh, hi," she said, trying hard not to stare at the woman's mammoth bosom. "I'm kind of lost, and as you can see, I seem to have lost my clothes." Her cheeks burned as she listened to herself talk.

"Oh my!" replied the woman. "That is unfortunate. Be more careful next time, okay dear?" She turned back to her table.

"Well, I was wondering if you could lend me something to cover up. A sheet would do…" Hawkgirl was only a few seconds away from getting down on her knees and begging for cover.

"Hm." The woman looked deep in thought. "I'm afraid I don't have any sheets I can spare dear, but I do have a lot of uniforms…"

"Great!" Shayera almost screamed. "Can I borrow one please?"

"No!" the woman answered simply, and went back to her table.

"What do you mean, no?" If there was ever a moment when Shayera desperately wanted her mace, it paled in comparison to this moment.

"The uniforms are for employees only, dear. It's a dimensional rule."

"Christ, not another one. Who makes up these bloody rules?"

"Why, the Authoress, of course! She is all-powerful!"

Shayera blinked. The Authoress? Maybe there was someone here Hawkgirl could fight, if only to steal her clothes…

"Is she some sort of supervillain?" she asked. The waitress looked surprised at the question.

"Supervillain? Well, I don't know… she's certainly not evil, if that's what you mean…" the waitress looked down at her impressive assets. "Although she did give me awfully big boobies…"

"Okay, so if I worked here, you'd give me a uniform?" Shayera interrupted before the other woman could get distracted.

"Yes, but you'll have to work for a very long time, dear. Those are the rules, and the Authoress can be awfully strict." The waitress clasped her hands together in a show of nervousness.

"How long would I have to work?"

The waitress put a hand on both of Shayera's thin shoulders and looked her in the eyes, her expression sober.

"You'll have to work almost two hours."

"Oh, Jesus Christ! You can't really expect me to…." Shayera stopped screaming as she realized what the woman had just said. "Two hours? That's it?"

"I'm afraid so, dear. It's unfair, I know, but we must obey the rules." The waitress held her head in her hands in a dramatic display of remorse.

"Well, I can't deny that it's bad," said Shayera, humouring the woman, "but I need that uniform. I'll just have to suffer through it."

After all, how bad could two hours in a restaurant be?

The waitress led Shayera through the restaurant, which was inexplicably decorated with giant neon squid sculptures and copies of Michelangelo's David with polka-dotted y-fronts covering his famous anatomical feature. There weren't any tables, and only sofas were provided for seating. At the back of the building was a large room that should have been a kitchen. Instead, it held thousands upon thousands of waitress uniforms. Every aspect of the food service industry was catered for; Playboy bunny costumes, Chinese dresses, Hooters t-shirts, McDonalds hats etc. The waitress dug into the pile immediately, only stopping to gauge Shayera's figure.

"Oh dear," she moaned, "Most of the women in this dimension are a size ten or twelve. I'd say you're a six, dear."

Shayera bristled. Her figure, or lack thereof, was a sore point, especially with her own worrying tendency to compare herself to Princess Massive Knockers aka Wonder Woman. Was she doomed to be surrounded by well-endowed women for all eternity?

"Too big, too big, way too big…" muttered the waitress as she examined various outfits. She stopped her examination briefly to reach out and pinch Shayera's hips, wrenching a surprised yelp from the superhero.

"You could do with putting on some weight, dear," the waitress clucked cheerfully, oblivious to the angry glare Hawkgirl was shooting at her. "You're not on some sort of diet, are you?"

"No," Shayera snarled, "I've got high metabolism."

"I see. Well, everything has its ups and downs, I suppose. Oh, far too big." The waitress tossed another rejected costume to the side.

"So, who created this place?" Shayera wanted to get away from the subject of her scrawny build and start getting some real answers.

"The Authoress did."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She can be hard to understand sometimes. It may have been a request job, or maybe she just wanted to create a place she could fill with lots of pretty girls. It works well, don't you think?"

"Yeah, just perfect," Shayera groaned. This Authoress sounded like a real nutjob.

"Ooh, I think I have something! One of the girls who worked here had a thirteen year old daughter… it must be one of hers!" The waitress finally pulled a uniform that would fit Shayera.

Well, fit maybe wasn't the best word to use. The dress covered about as much skin as a regulation swimsuit. It was a Chinese-style mini-dress, purple with gold embroidery and slits up both sides. The neckline, though high, had only one button which meant it gaped slightly at the bust. The shoes that went with it were flat cloth slippers, and the waitress had somehow managed to wind Hawkgirl's hair into two buns while the superhero was distracted.

"Oh, you look so cute!" the waitress squealed.

"Thanks," Shayera muttered, trying to pull the skirt down a little further. It was ridiculously short, meaning that the slightest movement had her French knickers on display for the entire world to see. Oh well, at least it was clothing, of a sorts.

"Now I'll show you the kitchen, dear!" simpered the waitress, still starry-eyed at her creation.

The kitchen, as it turned out, wasn't so much a kitchen as a storage space for rows of potted Instant Noodle and a kettle. There was a cauldron in the middle of the floor. The waitress launched into the cooking instructions.

"Empty the noodles into the cauldron, then cover with some boiling water. Cook for about two minutes, then stir."

Shayera looked around the kitchen, but found no stirring implement.

"What do I stir it with?" she asked.

"Oh, I'll get my big spatula," answered the waitress, with a totally unnecessary wink. Then, she plunged her hand into thin air, where it disappeared up to the elbow, then suddenly reappeared with a shiny metal spatula. Shayera gaped.

"How the hell did you do that?" she bellowed.

"Do what, dear?" the waitress replied, cocking her head to one side in a confused manner.

"How did you drag a spatula out of thin air?"

"Oh. It was in Hammerspace™," said the waitress, as if that answered the question.

"And what's Hammerspace™?" Shayera asked impatiently.

"It's a device most often used in anime to store useful objects for future necessity. For instance, if I was accompanied by someone very annoying, I could use Hammmerspace™ to store my hammer for whenever I needed to hit him! I store cooking utensils in it these days, though."

Shayera thought about her disappearing mace.

"Could my mace be in this Hammerspace™?" she asked.

"It's possible. If it's too heavy and unwieldy to carry about, it goes into Hammerspace!"

"How do I get it back?"

The waitress stopped bustling about to think hard. "Well, I don't know, dear. I've never given it much thought before. The Authoress just made it up to make life easier. It's not my place to question the Authoress."

"Perish the thought," muttered Shayera. "Say, if I go see this Authoress, do you think she could send me back to where I came from?"

"I suppose so, dear! She is all-powerful."

Hawkgirl had a bunch of other questions she wanted to ask, but just then some customers appeared. The noodles were served in the cardboard pots they were cooked in, and all the customers seemed happy enough with this. Despite all the goosing and pinching and general squeals about the cute waitress in the ultra-short skirt, the two hours managed to fly by. Shayera got to keep the skimpy costume, but before she left for the next stage of her journey, she had one last question to ask.

"So how do I find this Authoress?"

"Hm." The waitress stopped to think again. She wasn't too good at answering questions. "I do believe that she's three doors down, dear. Good luck!"

"Thanks!" Shayera marched away towards the door.

"But dear," shouted the waitress after her, "Keep an eye out for the Jabberwocky!"

"The Jabberwocky? What's a Jabb…" The door closed on her before she could ask her last question.

"Oh well," she thought, "How dangerous could a Jabber-whatever be?"


	4. Chapter 4

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Hawkgirl in Wonderland

Chapter Four

As testament to my growing megalomania, I'll be making a cameo in this fic. Sorry! So will Green Lantern for that matter, but you'll have to wait and see about that.

………………………………... review:

Jolly Green Giant

14/04/2005

Signed

Thanks a bunch Missie! This is exactly what I asked for. Although the other girls seem a little…well…dopey. Why are they all taller than Shayera? Oh , well. It's not my place to complain. You're the fanfiction writer after all. You do what you do as well as I do what I do. Anywho, keep up the good work!

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Marching uncomfortably through the next dark corridor, Shayera found herself cursing her foul luck once again. She needn't have bothered working at that stupid restaurant; the uniform covered nothing. Even the shoes were too thin to be of any real use. She sighed. Her hand felt naked without her mace.

To take her mind away from the futility of the uniform, Shayera tried to concentrate on something else. The advice the bazooka-breasted waitress had given her came back to haunt her. Look out for the Jabberwocky, she'd said. What was a Jabberwocky, anyway? As if the dimension had heard her, a sign loomed into view.

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"BEWARE OF THE JABBERWOCKY, DEAR!" it proclaimed in candy-coloured bubble writing. Why would I even begin to take that seriously, Shayera thought to herself. Further down the path, another one appeared.

"_IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE A JABBERWOCKY, YOU SHOULD TURN BACK NOW!" _it read, this time with an elegant, feminine Copperplate. Shayera snorted and walked on. She came across one more.

"_WELL, WE DID WARN YOU. GOOD LUCK!" _it said. Despite herself, Shayera felt a twinge of nervousness. What kind of monster lay ahead?

At last, she arrived in a room that held only a long metal pole in the centre. A sign hung from it that said, in candy-coloured bubble writing, that the pole was the property of the Jabberwocky. Shayera looked around, but saw no sign of a slobbering multi-fanged monster. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she prepared to walk through to the next door.

"Squee?"

Hearing the high pitched noise behind her shattered Shayera's already brittle nerves and she jumped, screaming like a little girl. Faced with the lack of weaponry, she pulled off one of her shoes as she fell over and brandished it like a weapon. But she needn't have bothered.

It was a girl, of sorts. The only difference between this girl and all the others was that her ears were slightly pointed and she had long black wings protruding from her back. They were like bat's wings, and didn't' look all that strong. She was as pretty as the rest of them had been too, with long white hair in a puffball eighties style and vivid green eyes that turned up slightly at the corners. She was wearing a leather and metal bikini combo that would have looked incredibly slutty had it not been for the gormless look on the girl's face. She was smiling in a way that was so benign it was almost cute. Shayera felt like an idiot.

"This is the Jabberwocky?" she asked, barely hiding the tension in her voice.

"Squee!" the girl nodded, smiling.

"So this terrible monster I was wetting my pants about turns out to be yet another pretty girl. Well, that's just _fantastic!_" she grumbled.

Shayera turned her back on the Jabberwocky as she looked for the next door. The room was covered in shadows, except for the sliver of thin light that revealed the Jabberwocky's pole. Said Jabberwocky tiptoed around behind Shayera, looking her up and down curiously. Her breath hit the superhero's ear and gave her a start, but when she turned around she found only the smiling face of the monster. Shayera smiled back awkwardly. The Jabberwocky wasn't scary, to be sure, but she was a little creepy.

"The exit has to be around here somewhere," whispered Shayera, turning back to the task at hand.

"Squee," whispered the Jabberwocky, matching Shayera's tone for reasons best known to herself.

Shayera pondered the shadows and pondered the pole. Maybe if she flew to where the pole met the ceiling… then she pondered the whole Hammerspace™ problem and the location of her mace. In fact, she was so lost in her pondering that she didn't notice the Jabberwocky's hand creeping up her skirt until it was far too late to do anything about it.

All of a sudden, she felt two cold hands on the tops of her thighs and was sharply pushed over. Somehow between the push and Shayera hitting the ground, the Jabberwocky had captured her panties and was flying away with them. Shayera was in the unusual ( and unenviable) position of being both mortified and enraged at the same time.

"Squeeheehee!" cackled the Jabberwocky.

Shayera flew after the monster, alternating between yelling obscenities and trying to pull down the hem of her skirt.

"Get back here, you little pervert!" she screamed.

They reached the top of the pole, which was shrouded with clouds and apparently it was nightfall. But Shayera had worked herself into such a rage that she didn't care to look around. And then, just when she thought she'd caught up with the beast, her arm disappeared.

That's not a misprint. The Jabberwocky's arm disappeared. Really.

And it was the one holding Shayera's panties, a fact that didn't escape her attention.

"Wha… what did you do with my underwear?" she cried, suddenly horrified. The last time she'd gone commando was to win a bet in military school.

"Squeebee!" the Jabberwocky yelled and waved her remaining arm. Then the rest of her vanished. It was only then that reality sunk it. Hammerspace™ had screwed her over again. Then it sunk in a little more. She was wearing the worst skirt possible to go commando in.

After some fruitless flying around, Shayera set herself back down on the ground and tried to come up with a solution, _any _solution, to her troubles. There was none of course. She was so lost in her reverie that she didn't notice a second figure creep up behind her.

"Hello dear!" the voice trilled in her ear. Shayera screamed (again) but didn't fall over (luckily.)

Right behind her was yet another pretty girl. This one was dressed in a striped furry bikini, complete with orange cat ears and a tail. She was looking Shayera up and down in a manner that made the superhero feel very nervous.

"You look very flushed, dear," said the cat girl. "Is something the matter?"

"The Jabberwocky stole my panties," Shayera blurted out before she could stop herself. The cat girl clapped both hands on her mouth and groaned in sympathy.

"Oh, you poor thing! I can't believe she did it again!" the girl trilled. "That naughty Jabberwocky!"

"Look, is there any way you could help me?"

The cat girl looked contemplative for a moment, then suddenly her tail swiped over her body and she disappeared. Before Shayera could become alarmed, the cat girl reappeared again, clutching a pair of panties in one hand.

"I found these in Hammerspace™, dear. They were an old unbirthday present that didn't fit me, but they look like they'll fit you." she warbled.

"Unbirthday?"

"Let's not get into that now, dear."

Shayera gratefully slipped on the panties under the watchful gaze of the cat girl. But once she had them on, the cat girl frowned and inspected her from all angles.

"What? What's wrong?" Shayera asked nervously. Maybe that jabberwocky had done more than just taken her pants…

"They don't quite match the rest of your outfit dear," the catgirl said, as if she was diagnosing the other woman with some grave illness.

"Oh. Well, it doesn't really matter…"

"Oh, but it does matter! It matters a great deal!" cried the cat girl hysterically. "But don't you worry, dear! Your big sister is here to help you!"

"Big sis… but I don't even know you!" wailed the startled superhero, but it was too late. The cat girl had disappeared again. She reappeared a moment before Shayera could make a run for it, carrying a small cloth bundle.

"Here you go, dear. This will match your underwear much better."

"Look, thanks and everything, but I… agh!" Shayera screamed as her short Chinese minidress unceremoniously and without warning jumped ten feet to the left. Taking advantage of her surprise, the cat girl rugby-tackled her and dressed her in the new garment.

Which just happened to be as indecent as the Chinese dress. It was a pale blue princess dress with short puffball sleeves, a wide-hemmed skirt with loads of netting underneath and a lacy white apron. Some might have compared the dress to the iconic child's dress from the Disney film Alice in Wonderland. That is, if it hadn't been about eight inches above the knee and cut so low at the bodice. In fact, it looked like something a desperate housewife might have worn in an effort to entice her husband into bed. The cat girl glowed.

"Oh, you look adorable!"

"This is some kind of joke, right?" That girl was staring at her in a way that made her nervous all over again. Then she found herself being rugby tackled again. The cat girl licked her face over and over again in a display of overenthusiastic affection.

"Get off me!" shouted Shayera for what felt like the thousandth time.

"I'm sorry, dear! I couldn't help it. You look so cute!"

"I need to get out of here! How do I find the Authoress?"

The cat girl thought for a moment, scratching her head with the tip of her tail.

"I don't really know. Maybe you should ask the Mad Hatter!"

"Thanks, but I don't want to go near anyone mad, okay?"

"Well, she's not really mad dear. It's just a name."

Shayera sighed. Her head hurt and her legs felt cold.

"Fine then. Where do I find her?"

The cat girl pointed towards a billowing column of smoke.

"Just follow the tea steam! Those girls love their tea, and I'm sure…"

Shayera didn't wait to hear the rest of the sentence. She just took off in the direction of the smoke cloud.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hawkgirl in Wonderland_

_Chapter Five_

We're about one Chapter from the end now. Enjoy!

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Trying not to hate herself in the ridiculous costume, Shayera hurried towards the large plumes of steam that formed in the distance. She heard singing coming from that area too, and she cursed. So much for the Cheshire Cat's assurances, this Mad Hatter was probably as crazy as they come.

The dense fog cleared gradually as she approached the source, which was a long table covered in teapots. Full teapots. There were half-a-dozen teacups on saucers scattered about the place, three sugar bowls and countless jugs of milk. Right in the centre of the table was a plate of assorted cookies and cakes.

And right at the head of the table was the Mad Hatter.

Surprise, surprise, another pretty girl. Well, she was more like a woman. Ebony-haired with high cheekbones, she looked so much like Wonder Woman that one might have mistaken them for sisters. She wore a satin waistcoat, red satin panties and fishnet stockings attached to a garter belt, finished with stiletto boots and a huge top hat. She was thoroughly engaged in talking to her friend.

The friend was blonde, slightly chubby but prettier than the Hatter, who looked rather severe. Two long brown rabbit ears poked out of the crown of her head, underneath the short yellow curls, and a small bud of cotton was attached to her tailbone. She wore a dark purple negligee and matching sandals fringed with marabou feathers.

The final figure was a younger-looking girl. Her hair was light brown, long and tied up clumsily with a silk scarf. Two light grey round ears peeked out from behind the scarf, and she was wearing a pale pink nightie. She lay face down on the table, apparently fast asleep. As Shayera got closer, she could hear the women speaking.

"Thank you so much, darling! I've always wanted one like this!" That voice was high pitched and chirpy. The rabbit-girl.

"Well, I caught you looking at mine so many times, I could tell you wanted one!" The second voice was husky and very sultry, the voice of a nightclub singer. The Mad Hatter.

"I wasn't actually looking at the lingerie…"

"Oh, you cheeky thing! Come here!"

"Eek! Oh, my…"

There were giggles and rustles of fabric from the edge of the table, so Shayera figured she could slip away quietly. She began to tiptoe past the table.

"Hey! A visitor!"

Shayera looked around. Both women were staring at her with those big cheerful grins that she had come to dread. Even the sleeping girl had woken up and was smiling at her, albeit tiredly. Shayera smiled back gingerly, waved and tried to walk way. Quick as the Flash, the Rabbit-girl leaped in front of her and had grabbed both her arms.

"You can't leave yet, dear!" she squealed. "You've only just arrived!"

Shayera decided not to struggle; it would just end up with most of her clothes in pieces anyway. She sighed with the air of someone who has suffered great hardship and allowed herself to be dragged to the table. She was seated with great ceremony beside the mouse-girl.

"Have a cup of tea, dear, and we can be introduced!" purred the Mad Hatter.

"Thanks… I'm Hawkgirl, and I'm trying to leave. Where's the exit?" Shayera blurted out hurriedly. The longer she stayed, the larger the risk that she'd end up in very little clothing.

"I'm the Mad Hatter. She's the March Hare," the Rabbit-girl gave a little nod, "and she's the Dormouse."

"Hello, dear," whispered the Dormouse.

"Nice to meet you all," Shayera said quickly, "Now, about the exit…"

"Have a cup of tea, dear," interrupted the Mad Hatter, and she poured a cupful and plopped it down in front of Shayera before she could say no.

"Thanks," she said, and sipped the tea just to be polite. "The Exit is…?"

"Have a cookie, Cookie!" giggled the March Hare as she thrust a plate of gingerbread men under Shayera's nose.

"No thanks, can you _please _tell me where the ex…"

"What cute panties you're wearing, dear!"

"Get out of there!" Shayera pushed down her skirt hurriedly as the Dormouse reappeared from underneath the table.

"Sorry," the girl giggled, "I couldn't resist a peek. I have a pair just like that in blue, you know."

"Those aren't yours, sweetie," huffed the Hatter, "they belong to the Hare, remember?"

"Oh. Do they? I'm sorry."

"I have to find the exit, please…"

"Have a muffin, Muffin!" giggled the Hare, thrusting a platter of brightly-coloured cupcakes under Shayera's nose.

Shayera leaned back in her chair and sighed…again. They were determined not to give her a straight answer. What the hell were they getting out of this? Then she had an epiphany… maybe she wasn't asking the right questions!

"So," she began, "what's this Authoress like?"

"Oh, she's so cute!" squealed the Hare.

"She's about three feet tall," added the Hatter.

"And she's got little kitty ears and a tail," whispered the Dormouse.

"And curly brown hair and big round glasses. She likes ribbons," simpered the Hare.

" She wears big poofy dresses and she carries a cane," said the Hatter, with one finger in the air as though she were making a vitally important point.

"And she has an Irish accent. Sometimes she meows like a little kitty," whispered the Dormouse. Then she promptly fell asleep, her face landing with a wet plop in a plate of trifle.

"And why did she create this place?" Shayera asked, appearing fascinated but in reality just horrified. A bunch of grown women ruled by a pre-teen cat girl? WTF?

"She's our saviour. She was kind enough to liberate us all from Themiscyra and give us a home here. And all we have to do is worship her," said the Hatter, fluffing up her hair.

Themiscyra?

_WTF?_

"I'm hungry. Will you pass me a muffin?" asked the Hare.

"Hang on a moment… are you telling me that you're all Amazons?" Shayera hissed.

"Ex-Amazons," said the Hatter primly.

"We're rehabilitated," said the Hare.

"I don't like Themiscyra," mumbled the Dormouse, still face-down in the trifle. "They're so shouty."

"She robbed you from Amazon County?" Shayera said incredulously.

"She didn't rob us, dear. We were glad to leave," said the Hatter. She had produced a long pipe made out of amber from nowhere and was now smoking it languidly.

"Why? I thought Themiscyra was women's paradise," Shayera said drolly.

"Oh no, dear!" squealed the Hare, taking her very seriously indeed. "It was a horrible place!"

"They made us do gymnastics and stuff," shuddered the Hatter. "Wrestling and football and all sorts of disgraceful things. We jumped at the chance to leave."

Shayera bit back a triumphant laugh then; Princess Massive Knockers was always going on and on about how great Themiscyra was and how elite the Amazons were. How many Amazons had applied for refugee status in Hammerspace? For the first time since she'd arrived in the weird place, Shayera allowed herself a spiteful fit of laughter. The girls laughed too, though they had no idea why.

"This must be some party…"

A low, husky voice, not unlike the Mad Hatter's but infinitely more menacing, floated into Shayera's ears, cutting off her laughter instantly. When she turned around, she nearly had a heart attack.

The woman standing at the head of the table was over six feet tall, blonde and gorgeous. She was dressed (in the loosest possible sense of the word) in a black leather basque, black leather panties and high heeled rubber boots over fishnet stockings. A cape was draped over her shoulders dramatically and a silver crown with high spikes sat on her platinum blonde head. In her black-gloved hands, she had a bull whip.

"Hi, Queenie!" trilled the March Hare with a gleeful wave.

"How many times have I told you not to speak to me in such an insolent manner? You must be punished!" growled the Queen.

Shayera watched in horror as the Queen unfurled her long whip and cracked it over the table. The tip wrapped around the fastening of the Hare's negligee and pulled back. The skimpy piece of lingerie tore off with no resistance, leaving the Hare clad in a pink thong and her bra.

"Oh dear!" giggled the Hare, as she tried half-heartedly to cover herself up.

Then, Shayera felt the cold tap of the whip under her chin. The Queen was inspecting her closely.

"So, who's this?" she said conversationally, as if she hadn't just assaulted one of the group.

"Not sure. She just turned up. Apparently she's looking for the exit," said the Hatter, puffing away on her pipe. She was admiring the Hare's skimpier costume with an odd little twinkle in her eye. So she had been listening as Shayera harped on about the exit, but had chosen not to listen. Bitch.

"Sweet," purred the Queen. "I love visitors."

"Oh, you love new playmates. Isn't that what you mean?" said the Dormouse with uncharacteristic boldness.

"Really, your manners are a disgrace!" roared the Queen. She raised her whip again.

The whip whistled as it tore across the table, right under Shayera's nose. The tip caught the straps of the Dormouse's nightie and they broke. The nightie fluttered to the ground, leaving the Dormouse in just a blue lace basque and French knickers.

"Goodness me!" she said, touching her cheek lightly and blushing. "How embarrassing!"

"Nice boobs, Dormouse. Mine are bigger though," laughed the Hatter. The Queen looked even more sadistically pleased.

"Don't tease her, I warned you before!" she yelled, and the whip flew again. The Hatter's basque was torn to pieces.

And then the whip was under Shayera's chin again.

"So, where are you going, dear?" the Queen purred in her ear.

"I'm trying to get to the Authoress," she grimaced in response. Was this woman an ex-Amazon too?

"The Authoress? And you didn't even think to pay me a visit?"

"I don't know you…"

"You know what I call that? _RUDENESS_!"

The whip flew, and before she could react the top part of Shayera's dress had been unceremoniously ripped off. Miraculously, the skirt part stayed where it was.

"Hey!" she yelled, and crossed her arms over her breasts. Her strapless bra was the only article of clothing that she hadn't lost, and it was a particularly nice one. Dark red, laced cups, bow in the middle, fifty dollars from a New York lingerie store. She wasn't about the let the Queen take it.

"I hate leaving a job half done," chuckled the Queen and the whip was raised once again. It would have caught the ribbon holding the skirt on Shayera's hips, but instead it wrapped around her raised forearm. The three girls gasped. No-one had resisted the Queen's flirtations before!

"I am sick of you twisted freaks trying to get my clothes off! I want to see the Authoress and I want to see her NOW!" she screamed, more at the entire dimension that at the Queen.

The Queen let go of her whip and rose slowly to her feet. Her big blue eyes blinked slowly, like a cow's. She was shell-shocked.

"No…no-one's ever talked to me like that before…" she whispered. Shayera began to fret a little. Had she shattered the Queen's spirit somehow? Then she fretted more, for the Queen was smiling.

"HUG MEEEEE!" the woman screamed, and threw herself at the superhero. They both tumbled to the ground.

"Oh, don't cuddle without me! I want a cuddle too!" squealed the Hare, and she jumped on top.

"Me too! Wait for me!" called the Hatter as she dived on top of the Hare.

"I'm all lonely now," sighed the Dormouse, and she jumped in too.

"GET OFF ME!" screamed Shayera, loud enough for Superman's eardrums to rupture though he was a thousand light years away. The women scattered, though they were all grinning happily. Shayera rose to her feet and stomped off, leaving her tattered skirt in the clutches of the Mad Hatter.

.

And next, the Authoress appears.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hawkgirl in Wonderland**

**Chapter Six**

And so this fine ficlet has come to its natural conclusion. We finally meet the Authoress and realise that she's stark raving mad. And we finally get an explanation…

I don't own Justice League or the characters of Miyuki-Chan in Wonderland. The Authoress is mine though. If you want to take her off my hands, get in touch. Please.

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Shayera no longer felt any kind of embarrassment or shame. All she felt was a blazing, white hot rage as she marched through the corridor in her pants. She was determined, mace or no mace, to beat the crap out of this Authoress for all the torment she'd endured. Who cared if said Authoress was a midget?

A door loomed into view, a large metal construction embossed with raised leaves and exotic birds and a statue of a girl protruding from the middle. The statue was rather garish, considering the steel blue colour of the rest of the door. It was painted in shades of pale yellow, pink, white and red. But as she drew closer, she saw the slight rise and fall of the statue's (rather generous) bosom. It wasn't a statue.

It was a girl.

Imbedded in the door. Fast asleep.

Shayera tiptoed closer, so as not to wake the girl. She scanned the door for a doorknob or a bell, something that would let her in. When she found none, she assumed that it was hidden behind the girl. She peered behind the girl's back, but could see nothing. And then, the girl sneezed and woke up. When she stretched, she accidentally punched Shayera in the head.

"Oh my goodness!" the girl gasped. "Are you all right, dear? I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," muttered Hawkgirl.

"I haven't seen you here before, dear! State your business!" the girl commanded in a cheery voice that eliminated any sense of authority she might have had. And anyway, the red pom-pom skirt and too-small white blouse combo she was wearing was ridiculous enough on its own.

"I want to see the Authoress. Right now," Shayera muttered back. She prepared herself for a battle of wits…

"Okay!"

"…what?" That was easy!

"You can go right ahead," trilled the door-girl. "She's probably expecting you. Or she's not. Who knows?" She gave a shrill giggle that could have broken glass.

"Fine then," said Shayera, undeniably relieved.

"You can go in as soon as you've changed your clothes!"

"What? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Besides the fact that it was underwear…

"It doesn't match, dear. The bra isn't the right shade to go with the panties. And as cute as they are on you, the Authoress is very strict when it comes to fashion."

"Fine. I don't care any more! Where do you suggest I get a more co-ordinated outfit? I'm travelling kinda light at the moment!" she roared. The door-girl didn't seem to notice her anger.

"There's a little changing tent over there, dear. There should be something for you to wear in there."

Grumbling under her breath, Shayera stepped into the little nylon yellow and green striped tent. Ten seconds later, she exploded.

"_I AM NOT WEARING THIS!" _she roared. The door-girl shrank back a little in surprise, but recovered quickly.

"What's wrong with it, dear? Is it too big?" she enquired.

"If it was too bloody big I'd be bloody delighted! It's too small, too slutty and just plain wrong!"

"Well, you can't get inside with what you're wearing… maybe if you wait a few hours something else will appear!"

"I cant wait that long!...Fine, I'll wear it!"

There was rustling and mumbled curses coming from the tent, and the door-girl watched curiously. The outfits in the tent were replaced by the Jabberwocky every few hours. Who knew what you'd get? Door-girl was one of the few girls in Hammerspace who wasn't afraid of Jabberwocky taking her panties. With her legs fused to the door, it was physically impossible. It was also a mystery as to how the door-girl put on her panties in the first place, but at this point the Authoress decided that some questions are better off not answered and no-one ever thought about it again.

At last Hawkgirl emerged from the tent. Looking like she had stumbled off the set of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was dressed in a lacy black corset, black leather hotpants and thigh high rubber boots. She looked gorgeous. And furious.

"Can I get in now?"

"Oh, you look adorable!"

"Thanks. Can I get in now?"

"Of course. Go right ahead."

Relieved to finally be getting somewhere, Shayera walked over to the door somewhat awkwardly (the heels on the boots were absurdly high) and looked behind the door-girl for the doorknob.

It wasn't there.

She counted slowly to ten, and asked the question.

"Where is the doorknob?" The door-girl smiled.

"I'm the doorknob, dear!"

"What? That's ridiculous! How am I supposed do get in?"

"It's very simple dear," she trilled. "You just squeeze my boobies!"

"_What? What kind of messed up architecture is this?" _Shayera bellowed, foiled once again by the smutty machinations of someone who really had it in for her.

"Well, when this door was built, they had some problems and while we wait for a new set of knobs, I volunteered as a substitute!" the door-girl said merrily.

"That's really weird, even for this place," said Shayera through gritted teeth.

"I know," sympathised the door-girl. "I thought the waitress would get it. Her boobs are so much bigger than mine. I'm just a double-D cup."

"Poor you," muttered Shayera. She was a jealous B-cup. "I need to get in, but I refuse to feel you up."

"Oh, come on! I'm not asking you to make out with me!" the door-girl said with a shrill giggle, then her face became deadly serious. "Unless… do you want to make out with me?"

"NO!"

"Fine then! Just grab my boobies and give 'em a quick squeeze! No problem, everyone's done it!"

"All right. Hold still…"

"…"

"…"

"…oooh…"

"Stop that!"

"I can't help it! Your hands are nice and warm…"

"Just shut up and let me get on with it!"

"…"

"…"

"Honk, honk!"

"I'm warning you…"

"Okay, okay, you're nearly finished. Just a little to the left…"

And without warning, one of the most powerful superheroes across several galaxies found herself being sucked head first into another woman's double-D's. She thought she'd drown in a sea of warm skin and underwired lace, but instead she was sucked through some sort of portal and dumped on the other side. She ended up in a large room in front of a marble fireplace.

The first thing she noticed about the room was the heat. As well as the fire, there was probably some sort of central heating on somewhere. The second was the décor. None of it matched. The walls were pastel pink and painted all over with fluffy pale blue clouds, and yet there were antique bookshelves against each one. The bookshelves had old leather-bound copies of Dickens and Tolkein next to colourful Dr. Seuss books and manga. Soft toys and miscellaneous electronics littered the floor, and in the middle of it all was a lavender fake-fur sofa, almost twenty feet wide. On the sofa sat the Authoress.

Shayera gaped, all her anger suddenly melting away.

The Authoress was just so damn cute.

She was about three feet tall, give or take an inch, but she looked smaller. The poofy pink dress with bow-tied spaghetti straps and several layers of tulle and lace and netting was arranged so only her little slipper-clad feet poked out. Her hair, light reddish-brown and set in Shirley Temple curls, was topped with a purple Bakerboy hat. By the side of the hat, two white fluffy cat ears twitched and waved. A fluffy white tail reached out from behind the mounds of tulle to rub the left ear. One large blue eye blinked as she rubbed one ear, then the other, mewing softly to herself. Her glasses slipped a little on her almost-invisible nose. She was quite possibly the cutest thing Hawkgirl had ever seen.

All of a sudden, the little thing sneezed. The force knocked her off of the sofa and into a pile of teddies on the floor. She popped out of the pile a moment later, and while she was fixing her hat, she finally noticed she had a guest. She hastily smoothed down her dress, fixed her hat and jumped up to stand on the sofa in what she thought was an intimidating pose.

"Hawkgirl!" she squeaked cutely. "We meet again-nyo!"

"Uh… this is the first time I've met you…" Shayera mumbled, still mesmerized by the Authoress' cuteness.

"Exactly!" the Authoress crowed triumphantly.

There was something about the maniacal look in those pretty blue eyes that brought all of Shayera's anger back to her. She stood up, mustering as much dignity as she could while dressed like an extra from a porn film.

"All right! You tell me right now what I'm doing here and why everyone seems to want to get in my pants!" she demanded.

"Well, since you did get here-nyo, I guess I owe you an explanationoone. Have a seat-nyo," the little girl flopped down onto her sofa and patted the space next to her. Shayera made her way across the room, carefully manoeuvring through piles of stuff, until she reached the sofa.

"As you may have guessed, this is my realm-nyo and I am its ruler-nyo. I rescued these girls from Themiscyra and now they serve me faithfully-nyo. I'm a very busy lady-nyo and I needed someone to take care of my home-nyo," she mewed, holding onto her toes as she spoke.

"How did you get such a huge place all to yourself? I mean, hostile occupation I can understand but you don't seem like a dictator to me…" said Hawkgirl, deeply confused.

"That's where you're wrong-nyo! I am a dictator!" yelled the Authoress, standing up to her full height and throwing both fists into the air. "I'm the greatest dictator that ever lived!"

"That's right," cooed a familiar voice. "You're the best little dictator in the whole wide world, yes you are, yesh you are!" The Cheshire Cat had appeared out of nowhere and was cuddling the Authoress with an ecstatic expression on her face.

"Have you ever heard of fanfiction, Hawkgirl-nyo?" the Authoress asked, her voice slightly breathless from being squeezed by the Cheshire Cat.

"Can't say that I have," she answered.

"It's great fun. You should try it-nyo, but I digress," the Authoress said, struggling in the Cheshire Cat's embrace. "Fanfiction is what got me here."

"What?"

"Let me go-nyo!" the Authoress, finally wrenching herself out of the Cheshire Cat's grasp. She toddled off of the sofa into the middle of the room and pulled out a blackboard from under a pile of ribbons.

"This is how it works-nyo. You take a beloved character from a movie, TV series or book," she stopped talking in order to draw a crude stick figure with long eyelashes, "and you write a story-nyo about them. Anything goes, you can do anything to them-nyo. As long as you have the disclaimer-nyo."

"This is her disclaimer," cooed the Cheshire Cat, holding up a diamante studded stamp. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Stunning," mumbled Shayera. "I can't see the owners of the character putting up with that."

"That's what the disclaimer is for. I just put it at the start of the story-nyo, and it means I don't own the character and I don't make any money by using them for whatever purpose. It means I'm invincible-nyo!"

"She's so clever!" simpered the Cheshire Cat.

"Now, with the disclaimer in place," the Authoress wrote DSCLAMMER at the top of the blackboard in wonky letters with the R facing the wrong way, "I can do what I want to the character-nyo."

"Anything?" Hawkgirl was horrified by the possibilities.

"Anything-nyo. I can start a story and not finish it (she rubbed out the stick figure's left leg), I can make the character change genders (she rubbed out the figure's eyelashes), I can send him to anywhere I want (she drew a flying saucer in the corner of the blackboard) and no-one can stop me-nyo!"

"That still doesn't explain how you got this place…" Shayera mumbled.

"I'm getting there-nyo!" yelled the Authoress and she threw her chalk at Hawkgirl. It bounced off of Hawkgirl's forehead.

"I was the most prolific fanfiction writer of all time-nyo," the Authoress glowed, patting her red-brown curls. "I had over a hundred fanfictions under my belt after my first year. Then, when I hit the five hundred mark-nyo, I broke the reality barrier and found this place!"

"That doesn't make sense…"

"Nothing here does! That's the beauty of it all-nyo! I don't' need to explain why my door is a girl, why my servants do nothing but play strip poker all day or why you're here-nyo!"

"My head hurts," muttered Hawkgirl, clutching her forehead.

_The End_

Scratching his head in confusion, the Jolly Green Giant logged off. It was certainly a weird way to end a fanfiction, but then Metamorpho had warned him that the Authoress was a bit of a nutjob.

"Still," John Stewart wondered to himself, "why did she put herself in the fic? It was a request job… does she do that to all her clients?"

He sighed a little as he printed out the last pages and put them in the black manila folder with the others. He couldn't deny that she'd done a good job. The mental pictures of Shayera in the various slutty outfits would stay with him for a long time. After switching off his computer, he walked out into the bedroom.

Shayera was lying on the bed, reading a Jackie Collins novel. He sighed again. It was hard to get hot under the collar when your snuggle bunny was wearing one of your old t-shirts which was about three times too big, sweatpants, a huge grey sweater with holes torn in it. Under those sweatpants he knew she was wearing those enormous granny panties that took ages to pull down.

It was true that the more you got to know a person, the more you saw of them. During the first few months of them being a couple again, she'd gone out of her way to appear attractive. Then the underwear got bigger and less exotic, the clothes got baggier and more comfortable, and just two nights before she'd waxed her legs right in front of him.

He sighed once more and settled down beside her. She looked over at him briefly as he opened the folder.

"More paperwork tonight?" she asked.

"Yep," he answered, turning to the page which featured the strip poker game.

**The End.**

If anyone wants to see more of the Authoress in fanfiction, review!


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